


Yippiyo-Ay

by Veronae



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Consensual Kink, Consent, Denial of Feelings, Feelings, Feels, Fuck their ridiculous names honestly, Hand Jobs, Kinks, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Masturbation, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Sexual Content, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 09:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veronae/pseuds/Veronae
Summary: "...other times they both want him to use every inch of authority in his blood, not to let Alex get there until he's told, until he begs."





	Yippiyo-Ay

<*-*>

Henry looks frazzled when he finally sneaks into Alex’s room in Berlin. Agitated fingers yank uselessly at the knot in his tie, his dishevelled hair flipping across stormy blue eyes.

“You look disgusting,” Alex teases. “Couldn’t stay presentable for me huh? How offensive.”

Rolling his eyes, Henry snaps, “Alex. Just don’t, okay? Not tonight.”

Alex throws his hands up, palms out, and steps closer. “Hey, okay. Chill, baby.”

A shudder ripples through Henry’s body, starts in his tired shoulders and rolls down his spine. His gaze turns wretched but he pushes a reluctant smile onto his mouth as he looks at Alex. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Reaching him, Alex loops Henry in his arms and presses his face into Henry’s throat. Mouthing him vaguely, Alex tastes his cologne as he talks. “Wanna like, talk about it? Whatever’s bothering you?”

“No.” Henry’s voice is firm. “And I’d appreciate you shutting up as well.”

Concerned and irritated in equal parts, Alex purses his lips and leans back, frowns up at the set of grey shadows and lines of fatigue that comprise Henry’s exhausted face, his gaze distant and distracted. They’d seen each other earlier, brief moments stolen throughout the gala, but Alex hadn’t realised Henry was having … whatever it is that he’s having right now.

He’s a master of control at times and Alex sort of wants that. Not the ability to mind himself in public, that sounds boring beyond belief … but the way  _ Henry  _ can command himself has a strange appeal. Alex is intrigued at the prospect of taking some of that mastery for himself. So he wraps his hand around Henry’s lopsided tie, gives it a sharp tug and offers, “How about I tie you up and take your mind off it?”

“Alex.” Henry steps back, dusts Alex’s hands away from him; he realises in a heartbeat that he’s miscalculated. “I said stop.”

There’s a thread in his voice that overrides the irritation Alex is feeling, something simultaneously inflexible and affectionate that offers absolutely no insight into whatever’s going on in his head. In place of annoyance rises something Alex doesn’t quite expect or understand - a thin desire. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

With an angry sigh, Henry stamps towards the mini-bar. “And don’t touch me just yet.”

“Sweetheart…” Alex offers carefully, putting concern ahead of everything else.

“Do as you’re told for  _ once _ ,” Henry snaps, throwing him a glare that takes the tiny thread of desire and sends it whirling in a frantic spiral through Alex’s body, sparking unexpected need all through him. For the very first time he can properly see  _ authority  _ in Henry, fucking Monarchical power, a prince’s demanding … and it’s kinda way hotter than Alex thinks is reasonable.

So he edges himself onto the couch and watches Henry. “Yes, sweet prince,” he says softly, teasing and wondering how Henry will react to it.

He’s at the fridge, snatching out all the ridiculous shot-sized bottles, but he pauses and looks over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Alex arches an eyebrow. “I’m doing what you told me.”

Frowning, Henry straightens and sticks one of the bottles in his mouth, twists the cap off with his teeth. He looks astonished and annoyed. “Are you getting off on  _ that _ ?”

Just knowing Henry is in the same  _ country _ is enough to get him half-hard, so yeah, Alex is definitely part way there already, but he makes a show of it, hoping to drag Henry’s attention away from his troubled mood and towards the pure ecstacy they could currently be indulging in. He leans back and slides one hand between his legs, rubbing his cock lightly. “Yeah, I think I might be.”

Henry’s eyes narrow, but they’re dark as well and it feels to Alex as though Henry’s only  _ just  _ noticed him. Slowly, he tips a tiny bottle of whiskey up and gulps it in one. “Unbelievable,” he rasps. 

Alex shrugs. “Why not see where it goes? Maybe bossing me about will help cool your temper. Tonight was good, I don’t get why you’re like this.”

There’s a beat as Henry considers him. Then he breaks open another bottle without even checking what it is - pink gin, Alex notes - and swigs it deep. He speaks in a low, hard tone, like nothing Alex has ever heard from him. “You should kneel when you address a prince of the Crown.”

Heat dribbles into Alex’s belly and settles in his loins. “Is that a fact?” he says reactively, knowing it isn’t, then flushes because Henry scowls and steps closer and Alex realises he’s already broken the game.

“Don’t talk back to me.” Henry speaks in a stern growl, and yep, it’s definitely a turn on; the cant of his voice, the darkness in him channelled this way. Alex is sort of amazed at how readily Henry’s fallen into it. He licks his lips and shifts, not sure if he actually should kneel or not.

Henry decides for him. 

Leaning back against the bar, weight tipped lazily into one hip, he says smoothly, “Stand up and take your clothes off.”

Grinning wide, Alex hurries to comply. He’d already stripped away his jacket and tie when he got to the room, but he jumps to his feet and yanks his shirttails free, starts pulling at the buttons.

Henry frowns. “Slowly.”

A thrill shivers through Alex’s blood. He does as Henry demands and takes his time, posing as he undoes his cuffs, flexing when he slides his shirt down his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. He keeps eye contact with Henry, watching him closely to try and catch what his mind is doing, waiting for the moment when distraction overruns his mood. It’s not happening fast enough for Alex’s liking.

But then Henry’s mouth softens just fractionally. “Very good,” he says, softer but still with a rigid authoritarian tilt. It sends sparks of desire shattering through Alex’s body and he wants to race over and throw himself on his knees and… He takes one step and Henry’s frown returns. “Stay there, Alex. You’re not done yet.”

Catching a lip between his teeth, Alex finishes undressing - belt and trousers. He turns and bends over to slide his socks off, giving Henry a perfect view of his arse. Facing him again, Alex hooks his thumbs into his underwear, arches his back to highlight his hipbones because he  _ knows  _ that will get Henry burning hot under the collar, and slides them down.

Arms crossed, Henry stares at him impassively, but nothing can disguise the flush around his ears or the catch in his breath as his gaze slides over Alex, from head to foot.

Hushed but teasing, Alex smirks and puts his hands on his hips, dancing his fingertips against his own skin. “What d’you want me to do now, Your fucking Highness?”

Henry doesn’t pause. “Get on the bed. Lie down. And shut up.”

He does, stretching across the sheets, posing again and grinning, but it doesn’t rumple Henry’s stoicism at all. He’s taken to this little fantasy with more conviction than Alex has, but he doesn’t mind the seriousness, because at least they’re at the  _ bed  _ now, rather than Henry shutting him out. So it’s working, and that’s what counts ... and then Henry’s eyes brighten and the edge of his mouth quirks. With quiet force, he says, “Touch yourself.” And that somehow really,  _ really _ works.

Stroking a fingertip against his mouth, Alex locks his eyes with Henry’s and slides his tongue out, sweeping it around his fingers before trailing the hand down the length of his body, hovering over the arch of his hipbone for a single breath. Alex curls his fist around his cock and groans softly as he gives one long, hard tug.

Watching Henry watching him is more exciting than Alex would’ve guessed, especially when Perfect Mr Prince does tiny deliberate things to stir him up - like dragging his tongue across his lower lip, and letting his eyes linger on the stroke of Alex’s palm, and sliding out of his jacket... He plucks his cuffs open and folds his sleeves back, exposing his marvellously strong forearms as if preparing to get involved. 

Alex’s breath puffs through his teeth and he curves against the bed, trying to entice Henry towards him. Inside he feels molten, swirling in a tide of need and the only thing that can guide him is Henry’s touch.

But the bastard turns away from him, drapes his jacket over the back of the couch. “Keep going,” he says easily when a strangled sound echoes at the back of Alex’s mouth. He picks up another teensy bottle with elegant fingers, opens it, drinks … Alex stares at the flex of his throat, moves his hand in time with it wishing Henry were drinking him down instead. 

“Henry,” Alex gasps, but before he can ask anything Henry levels him with a stony glare. There’s a startling mischief gleaming in the back of his eyes and Alex realises he’s definitely lost this game already. He sort of doesn’t care about losing to Henry, which would surprise him if he had more presence of mind to wonder at it.

“You need etiquette lessons,” Henry says, gravely though he’s smiling properly,  _ finally _ , for the first time since arriving. “Speak only when you’re spoken to, and then you ought to address me as ‘Sir’.”

A bubble of laughter spills from Alex because it’s so ludicrous, but when he squeezes his cock and irritably mutters, “Yes, Sir,” it’s unexpectedly arousing. Lust sweeps through his brain, short-circuiting active thought. Alex’s eyes fall shut, he presses against the mattress and tries it again, voice falling to a gravelly mumble. “Yessir...”

Henry bites his thumb and toes off his expensive brogues before padding across the room. The mattress sways as he settles on the edge of it, reaches over to cup Alex’s face, damp thumbtip pressing the corner of his mouth. Alex tries to catch it with his lips, but Henry distracts him by whispering, “You are so beautiful.”

And Alex can’t say anything, his voice completely fails him. He just stares into Henry’s eyes, a blue so vibrant he could drown in them. There’s no anger or misery or whatever the shadow was marring his face now - just a simple, reserved affection and that gentle smile that Alex aches to kiss.

He pushes himself up, curls his hand around Henry’s neck, but he pulls away when Alex leans towards him. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he mocks.

“Kiss me,” Alex breathes. Henry just smirks at him, and Alex’s fingers tighten on his neck, trying to bring him closer. “Oh, c’mon,  _ please _ .”

“Mm,” Henry’s smile turns sly. “Pleading suits you.”

Alex is about to curse him out, but Henry cuts him off by finally kissing him. It’s slow and soft and  _ devouring.  _ Alex loses himself in it - the slide of Henry’s tongue against his own, deep and warm and sweet. Henry’s palm smoothes across his cheek, long fingers coiling into his hair and his other hand fumbles down Alex’s arm, wraps around his wrist and stills him.

Alex pulls back, blinking dazed eyes. “What?”

“Stop,” Henry says simply and kisses him again, and this time it’s  _ fucking annoying _ , because kisses and handjobs are  _ good  _ together and there’s absolutely no reason to  _ stop _ … except that Henry’s told him to, and this  _ was  _ his idea, so Alex does. He drops his hand beside his thigh and Henry’s fingers tighten around his wrist, pinning it against the bed.

Urging Alex down again, Henry leans over him and pulls Alex’s hair ... and it’s heaven, even though Henry isn’t touching him any-fucking-where else, just lips and wrists and a whole lot of nothing. Alex twists and arcs his body upwards, seeking Henry’s warm strength, but he answers by pulling back entirely. Grinning deviously, he whispers, “You are a very ungrateful subject.”

“I’m not your subject,” Alex bites back, pushing himself sideways, trying to make bodily contact with any part of Henry.

With a small, dismissive noise, Henry hums, “Yet you’re at my command. Let’s call it a disagreement of semantics, hm?”

Collapsing against the bed, Alex glares up at his stupid smiling face and pouts. “Just fucking touch me, would you?”

“Not at all the correct way to make a royal request,” Henry says, but his hand drags down Alex’s neck, chest, nipple. Idly, he toys with it, manicured fingers teasing him. 

“Henry, you motherfucker…” Alex gasps.

“Wrong.” Henry’s voice turns stern and he takes his hand away. Alex wants to cry. He needs to be touched and he needs Henry to do the touching,  _ now _ , or he’s going to break in half. “Ask properly and I’ll consider it.”

“Oh my god,” Alex groans and Henry laughs.

“Getting closer,” he says, and dangles his fingers above Alex’s belly, a desperate temptation.

Alex plants his feet and hoists his hips towards Henry’s hand and cries aloud when he draws it away. He’s so hard it hurts, and Alex is torn between the thrill of Henry like this, of all the wonderful tension he can create in competition with the burning pound of his body begging for release. Alex sucks in a shaking breath. “Your Royal Henry-ness,” he mutters.

Henry grins wide. His eyes sparkle. “Yes, love?”

“Touch me.” Alex makes his tone a request, he can’t quite bring himself to outright ask. “Please,  _ please _ just fucking touch me already.”

It’s slow, painfully slow, but Henry does. He leans over Alex, runs both hands along his arms and urges them above his head. Henry eyes him, hungry gaze dragging down his body, all stretched out and welcoming. One hand follows that path, sliding over Alex’s skin and raising gooseflesh in its wake. A warm palm curves over his rib cage, presses into his belly, slips lower and Alex hisses, eyes rolling back when Henry finally grabs his cock and twists his fist around it.

Huffing, Alex pulls against Henry’s other hand, not really trying to get free but not able to stop himself. Henry just chuckles, and Alex slits his eyes open to watch him, glad that he’s focused, even gladder when Henry pauses to lick his palm and then returns it to his erection.

His grip is fucking perfect, firm stroke matched to the speed of Alex’s hips, which move without thought, tilting into Henry’s touch, blissful pressure sending waves of pleasure coiling through his blood. He’s been waiting for weeks for this moment, when their bodies are together again ... and while it would be better if Henry was also naked and still kissing him, after being kept apart for so long it’s still just fucking amazing.

Henry plays with him, hand rolling over the head of Alex’s penis, smearing pre-come. It slicks his palm, slippery wetness amplifying the slide of his hand. His thumb presses into tender skin, slips upwards, down, presses again. With every move, Henry stokes a blazing need and pulls Alex into the flames. He’s rolling against the bed, sweating, babbling nonsense as the promise of orgasm wells low in his body. He wants to pull Henry against him, wants his comforting pressure, hot skin on skin, limbs tangled together … instead, all Alex can do is force his eyes open as he thrashes his wrists beneath Henry’s restraining fingers.

Something glitters in Henry’s eyes that Alex has never seen there before, something dark and lusty that’s all for him,  _ because _ of him. He’s smiling too, but it seems inappropriately nonchalant and Alex desperately wants to kiss the calm out of him, can’t wait to have Henry under his hands so he can rip his composure apart.

He wants to say all of that, wants to insult the beaming smirk off of Henry’s face, but when he tries the only word Alex manages to breathe is, “Kiss…”

Henry leans down and does, kisses him hard and deep. He catches Alex’s tongue and sucks it once, gently, and Alex nearly combusts. He groans and pushes into Henry’s palm, chasing orgasm - and the arsehole takes his hand away.

An embarrassing screech climbs up Alex’s throat. “What the fuck…?”

“Not yet,” Henry murmurs, echoing words Alex vaguely remembers himself saying weeks earlier. “It’s not allowed.”

Henry telling him what’s allowed should not turn him on this much, but it does. He tracks a random path over Alex’s body with his fingertips, kisses his throat as his hand slips down again, cups Alex with his sticky palm.

Alex writhes beneath him. “Let me touch you,” he gasps. 

There’s a wicked grin in Henry’s voice when he answers, “I’m not done with you yet,” and then closes his mouth hard on Alex’s neck, sucks hard enough to leave a bruise and Alex know he’s supposed to care but he really fucking doesn’t. He leans into it, silently begging for more.

Henry’s expensive shirt brushes his chest, the promise of his impressive body lingering beneath it, and it’s the closest they’ve yet been but it’s still nowhere near close  _ enough _ . Teeth scrape over Alex’s clavicle, and then Henry squeezes his hands gently before releasing his wrists. “If you move your hands,” he whispers into Alex’s damp skin. “Then I’m going to stop.”

“Unh,” is the best reply Alex can muster, because Henry wriggles down the bed, dragging his mouth in a hot, lazy kiss along his sternum, tongue dipping into his belly-button, licking his abs … Alex curls his hands around a plump pillow and holds on for dear life.

Grasping his cock, Henry breathes against him, an invitation that has him surging with anticipation, quivering and close, so close. Wet lips kiss the tip of his penis, so gently, and blood pulses in Alex’s groin as he opens his eyes and looks down to find Henry watching him through his eyelashes. Holding his gaze, Henry flexes his tongue slowly over the glans, through the slit, balances Alex’s cock on the tip of his tongue before sliding his mouth down.

A white tide of need throbs into Alex, cracking him open. “Henry…”

His fingers are tight around the base of Alex’s cock, holding him away orgasm, but his tongue is making Alex crazy, and he  _ needs it _ , he  _ physically _ needs to come or god only knows what will happen to him.

“Henry, you fucker!”

Henry pulls back just enough to whisper, “Try again, love.”

Without waiting for an answer, Henry slides down Alex’s cock, takes him unexpectedly deep, nose touching his pelvis and his mouth is so hot and soft and wet ... but he still holds Alex back with those infuriating, beautiful fingers.

“Please,” Alex whispers, because it’s all he can think of that’s worked so far. His fingers twist in the pillow, locked tight, unable to let go even though he wants to grab Henry’s head and hold him where he is. “ _ Please _ , Henry, baby, I’m … please, let me…” The words spill from him without thought, but it doesn’t matter because it  _ works _ . Henry hums around him, then draws back enough to stroke him hard and fast, and in a surge of intense, burning pleasure Alex comes over Henry’s eager tongue.

Mouth gentle, Henry sucks him through the come-down then swallows and sighs deeply, resting his cheek against Alex’s thigh. “Mm,” he murmurs, sliding an adoring hand over Alex’s hip, grounding them against each other.

Alex’s heartbeat thunders inside his chest and he can’t seem to make any part of his body work. His fingers hurt they’re curled so tight, but he still can’t seem to let go of the pillow. His whole body twitches with the lingering throb of release, boneless and blissful, eyelashes damp when he forces his eyes open.

Henry seems in no hurry to move and in the back of his mind Alex wonders if his bad mood has reasserted, if sexual distraction stops working that quick... But no, Henry seems smug and sanguine when he blinks up at Alex’s gaping expression. “Where,” he manages to force some words out, breathless shapes, “the fuck. Did that come from?”

Henry smiles and traces his fingertip in a coy figure-eight through the dip of Alex’s pelvis. “One learns all manner of things at university,” he says, loftily dismissive.

Alex just stares, then finally mumbles, “Get up here, would you?”

Henry skitters up the bed and fits himself against Alex, pulling him against his chest and stroking broad fingertips over his damp back. He’s finally managed to uncramp his fingers from the pillow and instead Alex presses a hand to Henry’s cheek and kisses him, marvelling at the taste of himself there, wanting to kiss Henry the same way that Henry kisses  _ him  _ after a blowjob - but he simply cannot muster the energy.

Henry hooks a leg over his hip and presses close; Alex can feel him, hard, wanting, waiting. He wriggles closer because it’s all he has the ability to do at the moment and Alex is grateful that Henry understands, that Henry is patient.

As the dopamine rush begins to settle a strange vulnerability threads into its place and Alex curves an arm around Henry, snuggles tight against him with his head in Henry’s shirt to hide his face. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, because if he can focus on Henry he won’t have to face his own emotions. 

“Fine,” Henry murmurs, holding him safe and steady, and Alex never wants to leave this bed, here in Berlin where they can almost be normal people. They could drink  _ Rheingau  _ Riesling and listen to Henry’s original vinyl cut of  _ Low _ and have enough sex to make up for all the times they’ve been kept apart. He wonders if Henry feels the same; Alex certainly can’t tell from his voice. “You?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex says. He pushes a grin onto his face and leans back, blinking up at Henry. He curls his hand around Henry’s tie, hanging loose and haphazard between them from the knot Henry never quite managed to undo. Alex begins to work at it. “But I  _ am _ going to tie you up now, okay? ‘Cause I need to rebalance the fucking scales here. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Henry’s answering smile is properly happy, crinkling his bright eyes. He strokes Alex’s hair back with careful fingers. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Please continue.”

It’s strange how Henry makes him feels things no one else has. Alex doesn’t want to think about it, refuses to think about it. So instead he slides his hands up Henry’s arms, draws them towards the bedhead and guides his fingers around the steel post. He loops the tie around Henry’s wrists, begins to knot it and gazes down at the body sprawled out waiting for him to unwrap it, like a gift … and his heart does something strange inside him, flutters and skips a beat.

Steadfastly, Alex ignores it. He understands so many parts of himself better when he’s with Henry, but this is not the time to analyse why his heart hurts when they’re together, and fucking aches when they’re apart.

No. Now is the time to smooth back his hair, and soothe away the lingering harassed pinch at the corners of his eyes. Alex pulls the knot taut and shuffles down to kiss him, delighted when Henry surges keenly against him. 

Everything else can wait.

<*-*>


End file.
